


Call Me Maybe

by groaninlynch (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/groaninlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new boy has moved in next to Castiel's house, and he starts noticing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for my soulmate, alyx. inspired by the music video for the (absolutely fabulous) song, Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen.
> 
> EDIT (03/28/16): i just purged my acct of every SPN fic i wrote... except this one. bc it is so... so pure. of the 20something SPN fic i had written, this was the one that i felt no trace of embarrassment owning up to. its.. so.. cute.

Castiel is setting the table for supper when he happens to glance out the window and see someone mowing the lawn for the house next to his. He's slightly baffled at the sight as that house has been unoccupied and up for sale since Castiel and his family moved in six years ago. He finishes putting out the forks before moving closer to the window to get a better look.

It's a boy that seems around Castiel's own age, seventeen or eighteen. Castiel wonders if the boy is starting college soon or going into senior year at the high school. He thinks vaguely that that would be nice, to be friends and go to school with a neighbor. All of his friends live on the other side of town. 

The boy suddenly stops pushing the lawn mower and, before Castiel can question why since he can see there is much more grass to mow, takes his shirt off, tucking it into his back pocket. The golden light of the setting summer sun pours over his chest as he starts back up. Castiel, for the life of him, cannot look away. The set of the boy's shoulders full of intent, the outline of his hips enticing, the dark splotch on his left side suggesting a tattoo.

 _Beautiful,_  Castiel thinks.

He's so focused that when the boy turns his head toward the window, Castiel barely realizes that he's been caught staring before he drops to the ground. He rests a hand on his chest, his heart pounding.

"Castiel," his older sister, Anna, says as she walks into the room, "what are you doing on the floor?"

\---

Castiel brings it up at dinner, his line of thought being if he put it out in the open that he saw their new neighbor, it wouldn't be so strange that he'd been  _watching_  their new neighbor. Curiosity that needed to sated and all that.

"Did you know someone moved into the house next door?" he asks the table.

"Really?" says Anna, looking to their father and mother in turn. "I didn't know."

"Like you know anything that goes on around here, Miss College Student," Gabriel snarks, ducking when Anna lashes out at him.

"Better than being Mister College  _Drop-Out_."

Gabriel rolls his eyes, that particular conversation long worn out. 

"Yes," their mother responds to Castiel, completely ignoring Anna and Gabriel, who continue to bicker about nothing in the background. "The Winchesters. They moved in last Friday. John Winchester and his two sons, Sam and Dean."

"Dean is going to be a senior with you this year, Castiel," their father adds. "You ought to go make nice with him."

Castiel keeps eating without comment.

\---

It's a few weeks later when it happens. 

Castiel had continued his Dean watching, much to his guilt. Though he reasoned it wasn't really his fault Dean  _happened_  to be mowing the lawn when Castiel  _happened_  to be reading at the dinner table while eating a snack. Every Thursday at four-thirty PM. 

Castiel had sighted the younger Winchester, Sam, a couple of times. The kid always seemed to have a dimpled grin on his face, floppy hair getting into his eyes as he biked down the street. Sometimes he and Dean would sit out on their porch and talk. Only occaisonally would John Winchester make an appearance, and it was usually only to stick his head outside to call the boys in, otherwise he was driving a black monster of a car into town.

Dean came to the house once, to give back some misplaced mail. Anna had all but sprinted to the door when she saw him through the glass door. Castiel wasn't the only one who had been watching.

That particular afternoon, Dean was working on his father's car, the hood propped up as he leaned into its workings. Everytime he came up for air it seemed he had a new oil stain on his shirt. Castiel heard hard rock coming from the stereo from where he was sitting on the porch.

Anna thought that it was the perfect time to go out and wash her car. In short-shorts and a belly top. She tied up her long red hair, brought the bucket full of sudsy water and sponge out, and got to work. 

Castiel, in his old striped tank top and khaki shorts, blows black bangs out of his face and crosses his arms with a sigh.

For the next fifteen minutes, he watches his sister lather up the car, "accidentally" getting herself practically soaked in the process. Dean didn't look over at her until his current song ended. When they make eye contact, Dean smiles. Anna loses her balance on the car, falling onto the ground.

"Anna!" Castiel shouts, leaping off the porch, all animosity for her gone. When he reaches her he brings her head forward. "Can you hear me? Anna? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Is she okay?"

Castiel looks up. Dean's head is directly in the way of the sun, causing the rays to form a halo behind him. 

"Uh," Castiel says.

Anna sits up. "I'm fine," she sighs. She stands, Castiel worriedly hovering at her elbow. Then she brushes herself off, rearranges her ponytail, and smiles at Dean. "Hi. I'm Anna," she says to him.

Castiel nearly rolls his eyes.

"Dean, hey," Dean responds. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Anna touches Dean's arm. "Completely. Can you wait here for, like, just a sec?" She bounds off into the house before he can respond.

Dean huffs a laugh. He turns to Castiel. "Your sister?" he asks as he digs around in his pocket for something.

Castiel knots his eyebrows before he realizes Dean is talking to him. "Yes," he says meekly.

"You guys don't really seem that much alike," Dean tells him. "No offense."

"No offense taken, as I agree with you on that point."  _Oh goodness, I'm talking to him, I am talking to Dean Winchester, what am I even saying?_

Dean takes up Castiel's hand, writing on the back of it in Sharpie. Castiel turns a confused gaze to it for a moment.  _555-6041._

Castiel lights the confusion onto Dean. "What is this?" 

Dean laughs, and it's a toothy, whole-hearted laugh that makes Castiel feel a little weak. "My cell number, doofus." Then his smile fades and he slips his thumbs into his belt loops, looking at the ground. "I want you to, uh. Call me. Maybe."

Castiel glances back down to the seven numbers on his skin. His throat sort of tightens. He says, "Oh." Then he asks, "Why?"

Dean's face pinks, bringing out the freckles that fleck his cheeks. "To-- talk to you? Maybe, like, I don't know, make, uh. Plans. Or. Something." He scratches the back of his neck. "Look, if you don't want to..."

"No!" Castiel says a little too loudly, feeling his own cheeks burning now. He clears his throat. "No, I definitely want to. Um." Castiel smiles up at him, folding his hands together. "Thank you."

Dean grins widely. "Cool. Talk to you later then, huh?"

"Sure."

Dean starts walking back to his house. He turns back suddenly, saying, "Oh, and, you know, you can come over to read on Thursdays instead of sitting by the window." He winks and saunters off, closing the hood of the car and heading back inside his house.

Castiel covers his face just as Anna comes bursting out of the front door, a slip of paper in her hand. Anna stops next to him, her hand dropping.

"Where'd he go?" she asks, putting her hands on her hips. "Castiel? Hey, what is that on your hand?"

_Dear father, I am certainly going to be making nice with the neighbor._


End file.
